Disappointment
by FaeFolk
Summary: 4 and 1 times Dean and Castiel disappointed each other and once they didn't. slash. D/C. Drabble.


4 Times They Disappointed Each Other and Once They Didn't

**1. Pie**

It wasn't really much of a diner. The tables were in a state of disarray and some of green wicker chairs had quite obviously been haphazardly nailed back together recently. Sam didn't really care, though. They had been coming to this little diner every time they got within fifty miles of whatever podunk town they were passing through in Minnesota. They had been doing it since he was fifteen. A treat for the first time he had barbequed a wendigo.

Dean said it had the best apple pie this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Sam had never really noticed the difference. This time was pretty much like any other of the dozen times they had passed through, except this time they had an 'Angel of the Lord' riding in the back seat.

Sam walked quickly into the restaurant, leaving Castiel and Dean bickering behind him.

"Dean. This is an exercise in futility. I have no reason to eat."

"Dude, it's pie."

**2. Shower**

Castiel materialized in the motel room that Sam and Dean were sharing. He looked around, trying to find a sign of either brother, but the only evidence that anyone was here was small duffle bags on the floor. He looked out the window at the sun. It was about three, so it is likely that the brothers were out hunting or researching.

He turns suddenly when he hears the noise of water being turned on. Curious, he concentrates, and can hear the faint humming of Metallica coming from the vicinity of an adjoining door. He tilts his head in curiosity and walks towards it, opening it without a problem.

"Oy, Sammy. Get out of here."

The voice of the righteous man boomed in the small space. It came from behind a curtain filled with steam.

"I am not your brother, Dean." Castiel closed the door behind him.

"Cas?" Dean squeaked.

"Yes." Castiel walked forward and pulled the shower curtain away from the hunter. "How does this mechanism work?"

"Um, listen, Cas. I am kind of naked right now. Maybe we could save this lesson for another time?"

"Do you require me to be naked as well?" He asked, loosening his tie and pulling off his trench coat.

It seemed to take Dean a moment to process that fact, and his entire body tensed for a moment as Castiel began to unbutton his shirt.

"Ye-I mean. No. No." he barked, "Cas. I am taking a shower, becoming clean. Um, maybe another time."

"I do not understand your reluctance to share this experience with me. You are often telling me that I need to learn to do human things, normal human things. Is showering not one of these activities?" Castiel proceeded to pull down his pants and push his shoes and socks off.

Dean licked his lips, and before Castiel could disrobe completely, he jumped out of the shower, and grabbed his wrist. Reaching his other hand around the curtain, he turned the water off, and pushed the angel against the counter. He pressed his body flush with the angels, taking his lips and grasping his hips.

Castiel pushed him away gently. "Dean. I wish to learn how to shower."

Hungrily Dean looked down at the angel, "Sorry, Cas. I need you. Now." He kissed the angel again, fumbled with the door and pushed Castiel into the next room, only to come face to face with a very surprised brother carrying some books and some coffee.

**3. Drugs**

Dean didn't like seeing Cas when he was like this. Never wanted to see it, but he never really had a choice, not when he and Cas are all they really had left.

He walked up the steps to the Cabin that belonged to the ex-angel of the lord. The air in Missouri was hot, humid and full of mosquitoes, but they had gotten used to it over the last few years. They'd had to. There weren't very many safe, hospitable places left anymore.

The wooden beads fell around him as he pushed his way into the cabin. He swallows, and when he sees the prone form of his friend, he shoves the anger and the sudden impulse of fear that maybe, _maybe_, this time Cas isn't just high. Maybe this time he's dead.

But he's breathing. Wearing that stupid blue shirt he took off the back of a dead man. "Cas." he breathes.

The man turns to him in response and smiles, slow, toothy and completely false. His blue eyes are dark with pain and dazed, barely aware of his surroundings.

Dean bends down and places his head gently in his lap.

Cas's face slackens, but turns up in that smile again, "Dean." He nuzzles his head into Dean's lap, and it is so _wrong,_ so completely the opposite of everything Castiel ever was. He wants to push the angel away and scream at him.

Instead, Dean tries not to let it hurt. He pulls his angel closer, and lies quietly in his ear, "I'm sorry. I know this isn't you."

Except that now, it was.

**4. Jail**

Castiel's phone rings. He answers it. "Dean."

"Hey, Cas. Listen. I need you to get to Trumansburg, New York."

"I am on a quest to find Go—"

"No, Cas, listen, Get to the police station? As soon as possible. Bobby can't help us 'cause of the chair. Um. Bring cash. Ask for Jerry and Fulton Cantrell" Dean hung, up, leaving Castiel alone with questions.

Castiel emptied his pockets. The contents of which seemed to be four dollars and thirty-two cents. And a tiny bar of chocolate. Shrugging, he walked off the cliff he had been standing on and appeared outside the station.

He looked around, trying to find Dean and Samuel. It was a truly desolate area, a two lane road running past what looked like a brick warehouse with a large parking lot. A large sign proclaimed it to be 'Rochester Police Station'. Apparently it was also for lease.

He walked across the parking lot and into the building. A bored looking man sat behind a desk inside.

"Hello."

"What?" the police man said irritably. He had been reading a magazine.

"I am looking for two brothers. I believe that they are here."

"Fine. What are their names?"

Castiel shifted slightly, uncomfortable; lying had always unsettled him. "Cantrell." He paused, "Jerry and Fulton."

Castiel stood immobile as the officer slowly typed their names into the computer. He let our a quiet laugh.

He looked skeptical. "You are here for these guys?" He quickly gave Castiel a once over.

"Yes."

"Ok then. Bail is goingta come to 50$."

"Oh. I am afraid that I only have four dollars and thirty-two cents in my possession."

"They are gonna hafta spend the night then." The officer looked uncomfortable, and seemed to reassess his opinion of Castiel.

"Can I see them?" The angel asked, uncomfortable with the mans scrutiny.

"Sure."

He led the angel through a metal detector and into a small room with two large cells. A woman sat dejectedly in the cell closest to the door, and Dean, Sam and three larger men sat in opposing corners of the other cell, glaring.

Dean turned to see Castiel walk through the door. "Thank God."

"We have not found him yet. It is irrational to thank him for anything."

"Well, you are getting us out right?" It was only then, that Castiel saw exactly what the two brothers were wearing. Dean's shirt was slashed and even falling off in several places, showing Castiel's handprint and the small black tattoo on his chest. Neither brother was bleeding, but they were both covered in black goo.

The officer walked up to the bars. "You two still drunk?"

Castiel turned to Dean, "Were you inebriated, Dean, Samuel?"

Sam turned to face the angel. He was a little worse off than his brother, and had a bruise forming on the side of his face, but he seemed perfectly sober. "No. Castiel, we are fine. We got arrested with these guys." He nodded at the large men in leather. "Police officer who arrested us seemed to think that we were hallucinating. Something about Ghosts. They don't listen, no matter how many times we tell them it was total bullshit."

"That would explain the ectoplasm."

"Cas." Dean growled through his teeth. Fortunately the attending officer seemed too involved in the now wide-awake woman in the other jail. She seemed to be flirting with him, but had difficulty saying any words clearly. "Can you get us out of here?"

"I am sorry Dean. I did not have enough money. I do have chocolate though." He proffered the small through the cage. Dean took it and angrily unwrapped the candy and shoved it in his mouth.

"If they run our pic it will come up as Sam and Dean Winchester. Cas, we haven't been caught since we supposedly died. If they figure out who we are, I'll probably be given the death penalty. Or be shipped to Missouri, or Kentucky. Or the FBI will come and find me and Sam."

The officer came over, "Time's up. Say goodbye to your boyfriend and you can pick him up tomorrow."

"I am sorry."

Castiel walked outside. He waited there until the hunters left and disappeared into the morning light.

**5. Prayer**

Dean has barely been back from his forty odd years in hell when the angel of the lord shows up in the decrepit old hotel where the hunters are hunting a ghost and living.

He materialized out of the air, and gently dragged the hunter from his restless sleep. Pushing the hunter roughly to his knees, he snapped "Pray." Before following him down to the floor.

It had been an hour. Castiel had attempted to explain prayer, _faith,_ to the hunter in as many words as he could. To try and describe the indescribable. The hunter sat awkwardly next to him, trying to feel what the angel had described to him. To feel something, _anything_, aside from a deep, abiding need. A need he knew couldn't be fulfilled on any moral plane. A need he didn't want at all.

"Cas. I don't think I can do this."

"Have faith, Dean."

"No." He stood up, his knees where numb, it was the middle of the night and there was a ghost somewhere in the building. He didn't have the time or the patience for the angel's machinations. "How could I possibly believe in something, someone, who let so many horrible things happen."

"Do you truly believe that God is a perfect being? He is no more perfect than the creations he created in his own image. The imperfections in his world, the flaws and the evilness, are there because without evil there could never be good. There would be nothing but wasteland if things did not prey amoung one another. It would be arid land, devoid of life and creation. Devoid of pain and killing. But there would be nothing. So, if you cannot believe in God, then at least believe in that goodness, in yourself, in your humanity." The angel pulled hard on Dean's legs and pulled him down to the ground again.

Wincing, the glared at the angel before sullenly putting his hands together again.

"Hi, God." And holy fucking shit he sounded like a twelve year old evangelical _girl_, "Um, So. I might have fucked up. A lot… and fucked a lot for that matter, but um, apparently I am supposed to do something." He paused and sighed, before turning to the angel. "Cas, I feel like an idiot."

The angel's voice was as steely and inhuman as it ever was, but there was a tinge of something else as he tilted his head and squinted into Dean's eyes. "You do not understand."

"Thanks for that."

"It is about having faith. Is it so hard for you to give me the faith that you so willingly gave your father?"

Dean looked away, "Yes."

"Say it. Or don't. Think it. _Believe_ in it."

He closed his eyes with only a slight grimace. The images behind his eyes were wrought full of blood and skin and metal. It was a cacophony of noise. The dulcet tones of screams, of crying and begging people. The sensations infected him, breaking loose desires and a burning, unadulterated _need_ to do something other than sit in the dark silence of this room. _Stop. Please. Make it stop, _he thought.

He felt the light brush of the angels lips against his forehead accompanied by a voice in his mind. _Good Dean, you will be rewarded. _

His eyes were still closed, he tugged on the lapels of the angels trench coat, pulling him closer. His eyes were still closed and there was nothing. Nothing but a lake and a cooler of beer. A fishing pole sat quietly in his hand. There was a string and a bob attached, but no hook.

He had hated fishing.

It didn't really matter now. "Thank you, Castiel." Dean pulled himself closer to the angel and stifled a noise that was half between a sob and a groan.

"I would do anything for you Dean. You should have a little more faith in yourself."

They stayed like that until the scratching of Sam's attempts at opening the crappy motel door locks. The angel was gone in a flash, the quiet sounds of feathers following him as he went.

Dean crawled in to bed, to tired to think of where Sam had been, and grateful that hell wasn't flashing before him.

A/N: Note that any places described here were google mapped. Dean and Sam's alter ego names from **Jail** come from the Alice in Chains guitarist/singer/songwriter. I would also like to point out that I am not a creationist. Castiel is an angel, and therefore his world revolves around god, therefore any religious elements to the story are purely Castiel. If I fucked up the biblicalness, then I am sorry… but I honestly don't know that much about the gospel.


End file.
